


Eldfjall Drekavorder: The Volcano's Dragonkeeper

by Fault



Category: 47 Ronin (2013), Cloud Atlas (2012), 臥虎藏龍 | Crouching Tiger Hidden Dragon (Movies)
Genre: AU, Canon Divergence, Fantasy, Gen, Iceland, Lesbian, Multicultural, Other, RST, Transgender, URST, Volcanoes, Wachowskis, dragon - Freeform, global, non-binary
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-03
Updated: 2019-11-22
Packaged: 2020-06-28 02:18:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 41
Words: 17,189
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19802692
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fault/pseuds/Fault
Summary: My name is Amandla, and my story starts when I first met Jokullvedder Drekavorder.A man of ice and fire. A son of China and Scandinavia. The Keeper of the Dragon in the cradle of the Volcano. In one hand he holds a sword, in the other the mountain snow.This is a story of a familiar world where the currents of magic flow strong in the earth and air, in the water and fire and the very heart of humanity. A Renaissance world. A world of silk road adventures, horizons, and danger.(ps: this is an allegory about climate change. It might say things about colonialism that you are uncomfortable hearing. I hope you read it anyway.)





	1. On the mountain

**Author's Note:**

> This is a story set in a world made of other worlds. A story of stories. Every reference, from Jade Dragon Snow Mountain, to the Bay of Smoke (Reykyavik) is a reference to a real place, as it was in approximately 1600s~. Each character is based on a real actor, playing out a character they have played. Except perhaps Amandla Stenberg, because she has so much unexplored range, she is chosen primarily for who she is as a person, a child of many heritages, who identifies as non-binary.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A mysterious man appeases the dragon in the volcano.

The mountain stands tall against the plain, a steep sided volcano, the peak truncated by a jagged vent, a still and silent lake caldera. Snow streaks down the length of it. The wind licking the frost off the slopes, and tossing it into the air in wispy plumes. The sun is a glaring bright eye, staring down from the peak of its climb into the sky. 

It stares down on this strangely empty environment. No trees. No animals. Just the elements.

It stares down on stark rocks, and bare snow, and wild wind. 

It beats down on one single man, one single patch of movement and colour in this harsh, bright landscape. 

The wind tears at his Arctic silver fox-fur trimmed cloak, the wool of which is dyed charcoal grey, the trousers a dark rusty red. Common colours for the children of Viking lands. Like many a child of Viking lands, his silhouette is long of limb.  
His hair is not common though. It's as dark as the volcanic rocks, Darker even than his piercing brown eyes, his thin beard streaks the lowest parts of his face with black and silver. His skin is pale, pallid in fact, and his expression blank, shuttered.

The reason for this expression is easy to divine. His sword is drawn. It glares too bright in the sun, the immaculate silver-white of fine Chinese steel... excepting where bright blood streaks it, a match for the tasseled pommel. Swords are a Viking birthright, but not this one.

And beneath the cloak sits a much repaired, brown leather armour, carved intricately with a phoenix and dragon. Not common Viking motifs. Ice wyrms and fire birds may stalk the dreams of this land. But not these fantastic creatures, these supernatural forces swear fealty to the Gods of other lands. 

This is the duality of Jokullvedder Drekavordur. He stumbles back along the path of a recently disturbed snow drift, face blank. Then he sits down heavily. For a moment, he just closes his eyes and subsides into stillness, as though he has succumbed to the landscape, as though he too is broken into base elements.

The wind blows, the sun shines. The snow sits heavy on the slopes of the volcano.

Behind him, up over the lip of the volcano's caldera, lies a scene of carnage. Five white horses, from that strong, beautiful, wild-maned breed of Iceland. Five blood-stained horses that lie in a five pointed star, a single brush stroke Chinese character painted onto the flank of each, seemingly in their own blood. At the centre of these torn bodies lies a raised platform. In a sturdy wooden housing atop it, a jade statue sits surrounded by smoking incense. A dragon, carved so finely as to look frozen mid-movement.

If you look long enough, you will feel that the dragon you look at, is looking right back at you. This is the nature of the Dreka Eldfyall. And its keeper.


	2. It begins in the dream of the dragon.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I start this tale with a lesson I learned three times, dreams are not just dreams.

I dream of a grove of peach trees standing still in a glowing misty dawn. Unfamiliar birds call to one another, perched among the trees. Songs pleasant and unhurried. Nearby is the sound of a healthy stream, falling contentedly over rocks. 

I move up close to one of the trees. They're large, mature trees, laden with gorgeously coloured fruits, golden, orange, and scarlet kissed from the Sun. Fragrant and ripe. Large and heavy with nectar, they bend their branches. They are dusted with beads of moisture, as are the leaves, as though they are jeweled. Almost touchable. Then a different noise disturbs the tranquility of the dream. I turn. 

A man stands in the midst of the grove, quietly picking these golden peaches. His hair is long, free and dark, as though a wind has blown it from it's bindings some time ago, and he has not cared to right it since. Over a nearby branch lies a massive silver-fox fur trimmed cloak. The rest of his clothing is similarly fashioned for an icy environment. Against a trunk leans a well worn scabbard, holding an excellent sword of what I'm fairly sure is Chinese make, a jian type blade. Straight, double sided, and long as my arm. Common make, if uncommon quality. Near by sits a well-used bow of Scandinavian type, along with a full quiver leaning next to it. 

He hums a tune I don't know, it's melody tuned to an unfamiliar tradition. He's tall, and lanky limbed. And he's not young. Despite his strength and ease of movement, his hair is greying at the temples, his beard is salt and pepper. He's not a God walking the grove of Immortal peaches, he's a mortal trespassing on this timeless otherworldly land. Or perhaps, not really trespassing. He's half Chinese, and half Scandinavian, with deep brown eyes and a long narrow nose. Dark straight hair, and long Viking limbs. His presence is a balance of two lands, two worlds. He continues picking peaches, unaware of my scrutiny. With such a beautiful embodiment of balance, I wonder how it can be that the dragon and the volcano are not already at peace. If this is the Dragonkeeper, and who else could it be?

A sledge-box lies nearby, already half-filled with peaches. The man kneels down, takes care to pack his new batch into it, well padded with cloth, so they won't bruise as they travel. Taking quiet care with his work. After a few minutes he's satisfied, and takes a break. The peaches are warming in the air as the day brightens, their smell wafting on the breeze like honey and roses.

The man walks towards the burbling sounds of water. There are more peaches cooling in the depths of a clear, flat pool that lies in a bend of the stream before it goes on the tumble over rocks. He fishes them out, and sits on a nearby rock, watching a bird sing as he bites into one, grunting with pleasure at the refreshingly sweet and cool taste of it. Finishing it, he licks the juice from his fingers, tosses the pit into the water. Dips his hands into the stream to let it flow over them until they're clean. Stretches like a cat, and turns back towards his task. All the while, peaceful, purposeful.

As I always am in these dreams, I'm fascinated by him. He seems so utterly at peace and relaxed in this golden dream of China. To me, he is always an exotic person in an exotic landscape. I sigh.

“You're beautiful.” 

As though he heard me, he startles and turns to face me. Intense dark eyes peering across a thousand leagues. Then a rush of air like a hurricane. Suddenly, instantly, a dragon stares over his shoulder at me. Massive like a tiger looming over a mouse. Heart-stopping and fearsome. Eyes riverbed old, and fierce as a thousand foot waterfall in Spring melt.

I wake as though a lightning bolt delivered me back to my body. A little huff of fear escapes as my lungs seize rigid momentarily. 

I start shaking with fright. That wasn't my first dream involving this man. But it is the first time it was so sharp, so real that I could smell it. It was also the first time the man noticed me like that. More importantly, it was the first time the dragon has noticed me. There's few things worse than coming to the attention of a dragon. That was ... freaky. My hair stands on end on my neck and arms.

I take a few calming breaths, and blow the tension away. Feeling my body, the cold where my cheek met the air, the heaviness of my study robes. My favourite study robes, storied with embroidery in a half dozen languages, the tale of my scholarship. I keep my eyes closed, remembering the details of the dream. The smell of the peaches, the trill of the bird. Then I hold my breath, and remember, as best I can, the dragon. Shining bright as a mirror in the Sun. Five claws on each foot. As broad as a house, and as long as the beach at Kiparissiakos. 

I open my eyes and grab a handy scrap of paper. I have been sleeping on a wooden study desk, surrounded by walls of books, a thousand thousand stories of the world. The personal library of Aisha Khan. 

It's the quiet depths of the night, I had been burning the midnight oil before taking a nap where I sat. Literally burning midnight oil. An oil lamp throws warm highlights across everything, my notes, and the books I've have been translating and referring to. Providing a touch of warmth and cosiness. The window is open. The city of Damascus lies beyond. At this hour, it's as quiet as the cats that prowl its alleys.

As I draw, a cool breeze stirs the room. It blows from the north. Bringing with it the ghost of the ice that lives there. Of the coming winter. The light flickers. I shiver, and look to the northern stars.

The moonlight bathing the city catches on an unusual movement, a flapping of cloth high above the ground. There's someone flying right towards the library. I stare in confusion, and then horror. There is never a good reason for someone to fly straight at me in the dead of night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Amandla dreams of Kai. A Kai like and unlike the one you know. Please read this as though it is directed by the Wachowskis. Each shot is beautiful, and framed in order to tell a story of the world and the people in it, and it all shimmers with an ineffable energy. The mist glows not really from the Sun, but from the potential it contains. The Dragon is not only a dragon. And you can tell the peaches are Heavenly Peaches just by looking at them. I dream in full technicolour, where each object has a story, each person has a path. I want to share that level of experience with you. But I am but a poor humble fan-fiction writer. Please bear with me.
> 
> Why this story? I had a dream. I flew across the world using the power of magics I stole from monsters, and as I landed at my destination Keanu Reeves stood in the snow awaiting me. Shirtless, his hair and coat blown wide and wild in the wind, and in his hand he held an Chinese folded steel sword. He led me and my companion through the snow, and through a veil of reality, into a world of monsters, to find an item of power. Over creeks filled with giant turtles, and past the bones of dinosaurs, we fought and hid and quested onward through such beauty and danger. I wanted to know how this story ended, and most of all, how it begun. Now we're finding out.


	3. We're going to Iceland

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oh no... We're going to Iceland. Madame Yu.

Chapter 1: You're going to Iceland

The flying person lands confidently on the balcony, sturdy boots tapping on the sandstone, rich silks falling elegantly into place around leather . Aisha Khan strides into the library with the regal bearing of an empress, and the implacable confidence of an immortal. She lifts the well-worn flying goggles and wind shield from her face. Windblown and sharp eyed, she dumps her pack at my feet. “Good, you're awake.” She says, and drops her goggles on my desk. 

“You're back already?” I ask, shocked at her reappearance. She was supposed to be gone for months yet. It's barely halfway through the season, what's gone wrong? At least she looks uninjured.

“This season is much stronger than we predicted.” She says. I can see the exhaustion peeking through Mir Khan's eyes. The trip back must have been a swift one.

“So you've come to restock?” I'm still confused as to why my mentor has returned from the North. Surely if the season is bad, she should be up there still, fighting against the Shift and the Huldufolk. What would bring her back this far, so quickly.

“No. I'm changing the plan. We must act now. And act decisively.” Aisha continues unstrapping and loosening her flying outfit. Then I realise what she means by that.

“I... I haven't written it yet. I've barely translated the texts...” I babble. It's not that I want to contradict my mentor's plans. This is the very same Sorceress of Damascus, Tigress of Chen Du, Mir Aisha Khan. But at the same time, the original plan gave me at least another year, perhaps two before I would present the finished incantation to her for final approval. Imagine you've been told that your thesis is due tomorrow, two years early. My brain rebelled against even the idea of it. 

“You will continue your research in person.” Aisha says by way of answer.

“You're taking me to Island?” There's a squeak of alarm in my voice. My apprenticeship has been purely an academic one until now. All my spells have been cast in controlled circumstances, I've never applied them practically. Island is a combat zone. This is way outside my area of expertise. This is way outside my capability as a mage, and as a person. Damascus barely has snow, and I'm going to a place literally named ICE land.

“Yes.” Aisha says, definitively.

“We're going now?!” I say with no small amount of fear. There is no way to say no to this. Not only is it my life's work so far, it's far too important to walk away from. No matter how loudly my brain screamed at me to run, there was never any question I would be going with Mir Khan. 

“Tomorrow, yes. As soon as I've prepared myself.” Mir Khan says. We stand staring at one another in silence for an exceptionally long moment, Mir Khan waits expectantly for her news to sink in. 

“I'll draw your curtains. Would you like a night cap?” I say, I'm thinking on my feet, hoping that a long enough night of sleep for Mir Khan will allow me enough time to prepare at least semi decently. 

“Yes, thank you. Bring it to the bathing room.” Mir Khan says, starting to relax and cheer up at last.

“Thank you Sorceress Khan. I'll get right on it.” I bow myself out of the room. Then I take off at a run, mind racing to think of who in the House or Khan I can ask for help.


	4. Wake the House

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Now that the trajectory of my life has suddenly changed, it's time to prepare. Fortunately, I'm not alone.

Chapter 2: Wake the House

My mind races as I hurry off into the house. I hate hurrying. It is not my strong point, and it hurts. Before I leave the top floor, I pass the astrolabe and skid to a halt when I see it's occupied. 

A young man about my age is looking through the viewfinder of a telescope. 

“Michael.” I say, relieved.

“Amandla," He says, perking up from his weary study "You should sleep. You'll hurt your eyes studying this late.”

“Not studying. Mir Khan is back. And she just told me that The Story will be told this year.” I say, bracing myself to force the words out loud. It's anxiety inducing to make it any realer than it already is.

Michael's eyes widen. “Sweet God in heaven. I have the data on Sirius you asked for.” He says, leaping up to search on his desk for it.

“Thank you Michael. If you have the time between observations, can you find me the Artic star chart?”

“Of course Amandla. Let me know if you need anything else.” He says, handing over a scroll.

“Everything you have on Auroras. Bring it to the library?” I hand back the scroll.

“Of course.”

“Thank you Michael.” I say and hug him in gratitude. Then I exit the room at a clip.

Further down the hall the Alchemy lab is silent... and in disarray. I have no idea how Felice does anything in here. I just hope she's in the house by now. She has a boyfriend in the City, and I know she had a date tonight. 

I pause to grab the inventory ledger from the desk nearest the door. With a slap of my hand against the wall I have a bright harsh light to read by. The shelves of reactants and glass-work look eerie, almost monstrous in the un-naturally lit room, like strange animals pinned to the wall by their shadows. I search for a spare piece of paper. Excellent. I place it behind the page I'm reading from and scrounge my seal out of a pocket. Pressing my seal over the lines of interest, the paper behind it glows. After no more than a minute, I have a half-page of items I need Felice to find for me. I hope I'm not forgetting anything. 

I slap the wall again, blinking in the sudden dark, and click my fingers for a dim glowing globe to follow me as I prepare to traverse the stairs with my clumsy disobediant foot, not caring about the noise I'm making. I'm about to wake half the House anyway.

“Felice.” I hiss. “Are you here?”

“Yes. I just got in. Mahmood is dreamy.” I can see her bronzed face grinning up at me from the shadows, her curly hair falling around her face like an artist's frame. 

“Good for you. Mir Khan is back. I.. I think we are going to be telling the Story, this year, in Iceland.”

“Stars and bloodlines, really? That's some grade A bullshit right there.” Felice always has my back, though she doesn't always think through what she says. Thank goodness Mir Khan is out of ear shot.

“I don't think she made this choice easily.” I say.

“No... she wouldn't, would she.” Felice looks thoughtful finally. “How do I help?”

“Find all this lot.” I say, handing her the list.

“Want it bagged up to travel?”

“Thank you.” 

Felice grabs me and hugs me. “I believe in you, Amandla.” 

“I'm glad one of us does.” I say, returning the hug. “Bring everything to the library?”

“As soon as it's travel safe.” She confirms, and finally lets me go.

I practically hop from the room. No more stops between now and the kitchen. Mir Khan will be expecting that tea shortly.

Down in the kitchen it's quiet, the staff there will wake with the dawn to prepare and serve breakfast, but the horizon remains steadfastly dark for now.

I smell the cold scent of last night's dinner. A teapot and cup are easy to find. Scholars drink a lot of stimulating drinks, and the House is full of them. 

Once I've found some curd cheese, crackers and fruit to serve as a snack, I force the heat from the oven into the water with my sheer will, and then drop in the leaves as it steams. The kitchens are right near the bathing room, so they can share heating. I hope the short walk will be enough time for it to steep properly. As I usually do, I plug the spout to avoid it sloshing as I carry it.

Mir Khan is lying in one of the smaller tubs, eyes a thousand miles away.

I pour half a cup for her, so it won't slosh as I hand it over. She thanks me as I give it to her. I continue setting out her refreshments.

“I'm sorry I never trained you for combat. I fear it was short sighted of me. You have been so excellent as a scholar I wanted to focus you on that, I never thought... I never thought it would come to this.” 

“I know. Me neither.” I say.

“You know I can not rest until this is done.” Mir Khan confesses to me.

“I know.” I say. I understand. If I didn't when I started my study, I do now, five years later.

“But I will never sacrifice you for the sake of The Story.” She says with feeling.

“Thank you, Mir Khan.”

I've always trusted Mir Khan with my life. But it's nice to hear the words out loud. Especially since I'm going to be in the middle of a frozen battle field by next week. Speaking of which.

“I'd best continue with preparations.” I rise to go.

“I saw your sketch.” She says.

I turn to face her again.

“Your vision is true. Your story must be powerful already. That's a relief.”

I smile. Both from the praise, and from the knowledge that I did touch the Dream. Gaining a new power is always a jubilant occasion for me, even in stressful circumstances. 

She gestures for me to go, and continues sipping her tea. 

I spring from the room, with at least a little more confidence keeping my back straight. Argh! There's so much to do.

…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I did just make reference to Sirius the Dog Star. Look. Everything I mention in this fic has a significance more than window dressing. Some are just jokes/references, but yeah. I might not be JK Rowling, but there are easter eggs.


	5. Land of Ice and snow.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The beautiful empty land. A horse, and a woman.

A horse puffs steam into the sunlight. Shaggy maned, tawny and lovely, it trudges up through the snow. It's getting tired. The foothills of the volcano are petering out. Soon the climb of the slope will be too much to carry a rider. But it is a good horse. Young and strong.

It's ridden by a young and strong woman. Tall and slender, as is common among her people. She looks upwards calculatingly. How heavy will her pack feel once she has climbed the rest of the way. 

The horse snorts. The woman feels the tension it suddenly picks up. She knocks an arrow, and looks around, listening hard. The horse dances a few steps, nervous. Nothing else stirs the landscape but the wind. It blows down the mountain.

It's midday.

"Thank you." She says simply to the horse, and dismounts. She takes her pack, ties her hand kerchief tight over the pommel, and removes the reins. Once the horse is made comfortable, she says:

"Go. Home. Auntie Helga will feed you carrots." 

The horse obeys. 

The young woman squints her brown eyes and starts the trek upwards the rest of the way.


	6. Leave the House

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Leaving the House of Khan. This is still Draftish.

Slept and refreshed, Madame Yu comes to the library to find me pulling my hair out in distress. I have 40 books in front of me, in addition to my pile of notes and star charts.

I can't copy everything I want out of the books, and I can't carry that many books. I'm not stupid. But the Story needs to be told. 

“Which books are you been researching currently?”

I pick out five.

Aisha puts her hand on the books. “Take these. The others will come later.”

“How? You need to concentrate on China, don't you?” 

“Michael will take the other books as far as Italy.” She explains. “I am hoping for a representative from the Vatican. We will need them in order to tell this story. So if the books don't come, we're not telling the Story this year anyway. More is the problem for us.”

Michael hands me a circular pack. "My lucky astrolabe." He says. "And the algorithm to adjust it to the location of the Volcano. I'm sorry I didn't make a new one in time."

I shake my head. "Thank you." I say with upmost sincerity. "You are the best and most beautiful mathematician in the world." I hold his face and then hug him.

Felice runs in to meet me. “Here." She hands me a single beautifully folded paper. "It's my story. I hope it helps.”

I hug her tightly. “I'm sure it will. Thank you.”

“See you in the new year?” She says.

“See you then.” I say. Although we both know that this whole endeavour is dangerous, we both hope I'll come home unscathed. Her hope cloaks her like royalty. I've always found her beautiful, no more so than at this moment.

Madame Yu finishes the final few straps on her harness. 

"You are ready?" She asks.

"No less than usual." I say. 

I stand behind her, and my harness is strapped to hers, ensuring I cannot fall out. I put my flying goggles on.

It's emotional for me, seeing the whole House arrayed to see me go, and several of the merchants I deal with regularly. Felice must have summoned them, the sweet heart. 

In all their faces is much more hope than fear. And it's humbling and wonderful to see their trust in me. Not just in Mir Aisha Khan, Damascine Sorceress. In me. 

I take a deep breath. Off we go. Here's hoping I don't die before I can tell the story.

"I may stop in on my travels again before the Telling. And I will send news." Aisha says to everyone gathered. "Keep the House going while I'm gone."

It's my turn to say goodbye. "You all know me. You know I won't stop studying until we can tell it right. I'm sure you'll know when we have. Until then, I'll miss you all."

Everyone calls out farewells and well wishes. Mir Khan begins her incantation. Then everyone begins to shrink down into the ground as we lift off into the sky. The lurch in my stomach is significant, but manageable.

Off into the wide world we go.


	7. Beirut Salaam.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Beirut, where we must seek aide in our quest.

Mir Khan follows the road East from Damascus, hopping from hamlet to town. Just high enough that we don’t startle too many goats. Flying during the day is nice, once you get past the fear of having virtually nothing between you and the ground. The breeze is bracing, the speed is exhilarating. It's a modest trip for a flight, and one I've taken with Mir Khan before.

We approach Beirut. 

The haze of smoke, the clutter of buildings. The smell of the inlet awash with effluent from many animals and industries, horse dung and fish guts, smoke and humanity. And, in tantalisingly wafts between them: coffee. Oh how I love thee.

We land on the outskirts. A carefully calculated swoop ending with us upright a short way off the ground, slowing gliding downwards onto our feet.

“Beirut looks well today.”

“It does. I shall have to meet the seven families while I’m here.”

The trade city of Beirut. It’s one of the many places where the road meets the ocean. It’s not the greatest of influential cities or ports along the Mediterranean, at least not at this point in time, but it’s big enough to truly bustle. Inns and warehouses, industry and administration. It’s not so far removed from Damascus in the way it looks and sounds and smells. 

One of the lovely things about Beirut is that it is currently ruled by the Druze. Which means cleanliness is common, and the holy practice of hospitality means that strangers, especially travellers like us, are welcomed and provided for well. Finding food, water and shelter will be as simple as asking who provides them. 

It’s also why Mir Khan is meeting people here. Representatives of the seven families. Our pilgrimage to Island needs to gather many in its wake. If we are to tell The Story, we need others of power. I may be the central researcher on this matter, but it is well beyond the power of one person to solve this. I am very keenly aware of this.

Aisha has been in contact with many over the last five years, but there was supposed to be much more time to rally support. 

The other nice part of Beirut is that coffee is popular on this side of the Mediterranean. And it’s going to be a long time before I can get any more of my favourite drink. If I’m lucky, I’ll be able to get a small bag of beans while here, enough to give me a taste of home while in Island.

Coffee and loukoum is sold in many places along the market way. Little stalls and stores. Tables and stools set out underneath the sky, in the shade of buildings. 

We walk to the nearest well, and wash our faces and hands in the prescribed manner. It’s good to know what marks one as an upstanding citizen. Here, it is clean hands. 

The coffee here is roasted fresh over a fire and pounded into grinds before being boiled to a froth and served strong, hot and unadulterated. With a sweet loukoum to follow, cleansing the bitterness and giving its own shot of energy to my aching exhausted bones. 

I organise myself a cup at one of the stands. In this place the sweet is a choice between rose flavoured raha or candied orange peels. I choose the raha. It’s dense, almost chewy texture always makes me smile. And I love roses. 

I hold the cup in both hands. It’s sturdy and clean and so warm. Just below the rim it has a slapdash suggestion of the fine decorations seen on coffee cups in wealthy households. It’s so beautiful to me that I could cry. I’m going to miss coffee. It’s my favourite drink. If I’m going to help tell The Story on Spring solstice, then my little bag is going to be long gone.

Familiar Arabic flows through the conversations around me. But my ear picks out the accents of the Mediterranean within that context. This is good. We need to hear news of Alexandria. The trouble with port towns is that they are valuable. And that attracts both conquerors and pirates. 

Here is Beirut, the town is protected by the seven families. Aisha Khan’s challenge is to convince them that the threat in the North is a threat to the town. This is very difficult. The dragon under the volcano is far away, composed of magics that few understand, and may just be a figment of imagination, or mistaken for being a much larger threat than it actually is. Anyone with the right senses knows that something is off. But even of these, it's difficult to convey that it's something huge far away, not something small and close.

I have walked the dream. The dragon is real. The volcano is real. The danger is hard to understate.


	8. Meetings on the Mountain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gudrun meets her father on the side of the Volcano.

The mountain is high, a steep sided volcano. Snow capped. The wind licking the frost off the slopes, and tossing it into the air in wispy plumes. The sun is a glaring bright eye, staring down from the height of its climb into the sky. 

It beats down on a strangely empty countryside.

It beats down on stark rocks, bare snow, and one single man, a single patch of movement and colour in a pale blue and white and black landscape. 

Jokullvegger still kneels in the snow. He just had to sacrifice five white horses. Beautiful strong creatures who deserved a better fate. The toll the Dragon takes grows higher every year. But he just has to last this one last year. Just one more year. His ears sing with the sound of his own blood.

It takes him a while to hear the approaching foot-steps, as they crunch through the snow. His eyes snap open.

The strong young woman stands there. The resemblance is clear, now that they stare one another in the face. Strong eyebrows, high forehead, dark hair. Lanky body. Straight back.

“Hey Pabbi.” She says, greeting her father casually, as though it was nothing strange to meet on the side of a volcano.

“What are you doing here?” He says, sounding stern. 

She holds out an arm to help him up out of the snow. “I’ve come to help.”

“You’ve come to help?” He sounds disbelieving. Eventually he takes the proffered hand. 

“Fraenka Helga knows that Mir Khan left you. So I came to find you.” She says matter of factly. He huffs a sigh, shaking his head.

“I left peaches behind me.” He says, and points back the way he came. They set off.

“You just set out into the wilderness to find one man alone in the wilderness?” He asks. Trying to convey how mad it sounds.

“I’ve done more difficult things.” She shrugs.

“With the Aurora overhead and the alfar abroad? This is dangerous. You could be home watching sheep and courting yourself a husband.” He speaks as though he’s used to this stubborn child of his.

“That is not what I want from my life. I want to properly be your partner in this.” She says, equally used to disagreeing with her father.

“It’s what I want from your life. Safety. Security. Peace.” He says.

“I have the heart of a Valkyrie. Peace is not my calling.” She slides down a piece of icy terrain on her butt. Jokull follows.

Jokull points back up at the volcano. “This is not your calling either. The dragon will be laid to rest this year, and then no-one will need to do this any more. Not me, and not you. You don’t ever have to shoulder this burden. And if that’s my life’s highest achievement I am grateful.”

“And what if the Story isn’t told this year? What if we need another year. What if the Huldufolk take you tomorrow?” She says, not giving up.

“Don’t speak of maybes. Mir Khan and I have a solid plan.” Jokull says sternly.

“So you’re infallible?” She rolls her eyes.

“I’m your Elder and deserve respect.” He says, mixing Chinese in with his statement.

“You are my Elder.”

She reaches to grab his amulet. He reacts quickly, quicker than her grab, and steps out of her reach. But he has forgotten the lake beside them. He loses footing and falls into the water. 

Gudrun looks at him struggling to stand for a second, then turns away to start breaking up Jokull’s camp as he finds his feet.

“And you deserve to be questioned. Just like everything else in the world.” She says over her shoulder.

Jokull doesn’t reply, he just hauls himself out of the water and steams generously into the cold air. One of the many advantages to being the Keeper of the Dragon is having a heart of fire.

“You’re this angry with me because you had to sacrifice horses again.” She says. Packing the last few items away. He says nothing.

“Do you understand me, now that you’ve laid your head in water?” She asks.

He takes a deep breath, and blows it out. “I understand you.” He says.

“So?”

“While I don’t entirely agree, I don’t entirely disagree... Stay with me. We will work together. But your first priority is to be careful, to keep yourself safe. At all times. I can look after myself.”

“Of course Pabbi. I’m not a child anymore. How is it that you ask me to get married one minute, and then treat me as a child the next. What sort of man marries a child.”

“It’s just words.” He says, annoyed that her wit and tongue are so fast.

She switches to Chinese, speaking with an odd accent, but still with passable intonation.

“You’re the one who told me words have power, then taught me Chinese until my ears were filled with it because how else could the Dragon be tamed than in its own tongue?”

“Do you have respect for your elders in any language? Protecting you from the dragon and shouldering you with the burden of sacrificing horses to the dragon are two different things. ”

She switches back to Icelandic.

“I know Pabbi. And I respect how hard it is. But I’m strong, and I'm capable. I can help.”

“I know.” He says, and now decently dry, wraps her in a hug. She hugs him back. "Thank you." He says quietly.

After some time, they leave the lake together. Two tiny humans in a vast landscape. 

\---  
*Icelandic saying meaning to find clarity. This is a word play. Gudrun just made Jokull literally go cool his head in water.


	9. Alexandria. Cradle of learning.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning: from this point in, this is draft quality. I apologise for the roughness and disjointedness. But this is my way of motivating myself to finish. Basically writing parts in and out of the narrative so that eventually it becomes a whole and flowing story with a satisfying conclusion.

It's twilight when we land in Alexandria. The heat has fled with the Sun, and the first stars are becoming visible. It has been a long flight. Fast, and without much in the way of breaks. By now my sleep deprived body is screaming at me in exhaustion, and various extremities are numb from the cold wind of our flight. My nerves jangle as we land on the edge of a pool of lights gathered near the shore of the Mediterranean. I may be brave in Damascus at night, but that's because I know which streets are safe. Then again, I'm travelling with Aisha Khan, so why should I worry about any common thug crossing my path?

Perhaps it is because I know why we have traveled here. I know where we are headed, and what awaits us there. Mir Khan directs us towards our destination inerrantly. Through dark alley and bright wayroad. Inwards from the walls. There are others out in the city, warily curious about us, as I am about them. Then our pace slows. We stop. Deep in the bowels of the city, is a door. An old iron bound door. Painted with dark preserving oils and ossified into its surrounding thick stone wall, a mismatch with other walls in the area. Mir Khan takes a key from one of her hidden pockets and unlocks it. The tumblers click over with protest. "Push with me." She says. We both lean against the door, and it gives way like a sunset, slowly and then all at once. I tumble into the darkness, alarmed. Nothing stirs. Just our breaths. With a snap of her fingers, Mir Khan lights the room. The room is stone, and the air is filled with a dry disuse. The smell of hot days past and stale air. There are signs of a former life to this room, of care and detail given to this place, of celebration, even veneration. We head downwards, into a strange corner basement, where there's a portal into the underworld. 

There is where an old friend resides, trapped forever in a stone lined room without interruption.

Aisha takes me to meet an old friend. A very old friend. 

There, sleeping so long and so still as to be covered in dust is a Sphinx. 

She stirs as we step through the wall. Standing to meet her visitors. 

She speaks in Ancient Greek, in a dialect that sounds strange to my ear, but fortunately understandable. "Aisha Khan. Some time has passed in the world it seems." "A student of yours?" She asks of me.

"How do you keep." Mir Khan asks.

"I miss the Sun." She says, with a dry sense of humour, of hidden meaning and grief. " Why are you here." She says, as though commanding answer.

"We need a librarian."Aisha Khan says.

"My knowledge has many holes burned into it. You know this. But I will help if I can."

"We want to give you a new library."

"A new library. As though it can replace what we lost."

"Nothing can replace that. But, no-one can replace you." 

"You were the most powerful creature in the Mediterranean."

"That was a different time. A different empire." She says.

"But this is the seat of great learning. From ashes sprout new growth, does it not?" 

"The Library no longer stands. And neither do the powers that sprung from it. I am a hollow remainder." The sphinx says. 

I try again. "You have felt the disturbance, have you not? The the fabric of the ground."

"I have. This may be my final destruction." She says chillingly, then pauses. "This is perhaps not a bad thing." She says soothingly.

I shake my head in denial. I cannot accept that the Sphinx herself does not want to help us. As a scholar it is unthinkable to me. Unthinkable that the Sphinx no longer cares to prise out the secrets of the universe, to be the great storehouse of knowledge. To tend a mighty empire of books, gathered by her loyal subjects as devotionals of learning and wisdom. My voice almost cracks as I say. "That won't happen. I am making new powers. I have a new Story to tell. I am Making a new Library."

"Ambitious." The Sphinx whispers. The echoes of it somehow reverberating much more than it should. As though the Sphinx is turning the thought over in her mind.

I continue. "If we free you, and break the the decay that is rotting you. Will you tend the new library?"

The Sphinx is quiet for a long time. Apparently measuring me up. I feel awkwardly conscious of my weak leg. I feel small, and untried, and inadequate as her ancient eyes look down upon me. But I also feel defiant. Part of me doesn't even care if I'm as useless as those eyes make me feel. Fear of failure isn't going to make me change my course. The world is threatening to break in pieces, and if I can help halt those cracks, even a little, I will. Even if it means I call into a chasm. Eventually the Sphinx seems satisfied. "Yes. Yes. Let it be so. When trees grow books, and castles are made of glass* I will be your Librarian." The Sphinx says, with a voice like dust.

"I will hold you to that." Amandla says.

"I hope that you do, young human. I hope that you do." Replies the Sphinx.

"Blood bond." I say.

"Blood bond it is." The Sphinx replies.

"Aisha, you have grown a wonderful young warrior here. Do not waste her."

"Of course not Ancient Sphinx. I have no intention of doing so."

"I'm not... a warrior."

"Oh, but you are. You are exactly the sort of warrior this problem requires, if I'm not mistaken." The Sphinx replies.

"Give me your hand." Mir Khan says, and I hold my right hand out. 

"No, your left."

"Allow me." The sphinx says. She cuts herself with one of her own claws, and then presses that claw delicately into my palm.

\---  
* The Huldufolk essentially make castles of glass, and the English make books from paper. So she sends a Huldufolk with the collected works of Shakespeare to the Sphinx in order to prove her worth, before helping them to break free.

The Sphinx is basically Google: an extraordinarily efficient way to search through information and find books. Amandla will need this in order to tell her Story properly.


	10. Two at night. The stars, the Moon.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jokull and Gudrun share a night in the wilderness.

I find myself dreaming of other places again. Of the people that stand at my destination.

The rest of Jokull and Gudrun's day is filled with less dramatic ways of reinforcing the boundaries of the Dragon in the Volcano. 

After a long day of reinforcing the wards on the mountain together, Jokull notes the setting sun, eyes squinting to see it's remaining distance above the horizon. Less than an hour before darkness truly sets in.

"It is late." He says simply, pausing to take stock of the surrounding terrain.

"So, should we find a shelter for the night on the mountain?" Gudrun asks.

He slips back into Chinese. "Over there is a portal, we can cross through the veil without trouble."

She responds in Icelandic.

"We're safer in the Dream. But it isn't good for you to stay there. Or for me."

"Besides, don't we need to track where the Dragon chases the Fire fox making the dragon's path from the auroras?" She asks.

Jokull grunts, looks around and points towards a rocky depression in the mountain, a place where winds will eddy. A place where a tent will grab strongly. "You're not to run off to find Shiftfall." He warns as they trudge towards it.

"I won't. I did that as a teen, not now. Shiftfall was less problematic back then." Gudrun says, using Jokull's footprints to guide her steps safely.

"The fact that you did it at all." He says, with a faint sound of being appalled.

"It was a long time ago, when you started excluding me from training. When it became only Fljot and you." 

"His name is Feng." Jokull says flatly.

"His name was Feng, and he was my big brother, and I called him Fljot." Gudrun says.

Jokull turns and stares at Gudrun.

"Considering how he died, why must you use that nickname?" Jokull is exasperated again.

"Because he insisted I call him that." Gudrun says.

"Well I insist that you don't. Not around me at least." Jokull replies.

"That I can do." Gudrun says. They both turn back to the path.  
After a few steps, Gudrun brings up something she's wanted to know the answer to for years now. "Why did you stop training me? Really, the Dragon wasn't so dangerous back then."

"Because I thought it was ruining you. That Dragon is a masculine force." Jokull says.

"I am who I am and I always have been. You have no more control over that than the stars do over the Moon. And neither does the Dragon."

"If you say so." Jokull replies, somewhat unconvinced.

"Stop blaming yourself for who I am. I'm not broken, and you can't fix me. I like who I love, and who I am, even if you don't." She says defensively.

Jokull steps over and rests his forehead against hers.

"I love who you are. Not just because you are my daughter. You are strong, and honorable and generous."

"Then what's the problem?" Gudrun asks eyes closed, enjoying the forehead touch, half exasperated, half pleading.

Jokull straightens up again, then takes out the tent, Gudrun helps him. "Because you are too like me. And I don't want you to become a loner on the mountain, serving the Dragon and banishing Shiftfall. It is a hard life."

"I'm choosing to be myself. And I like this life. And if I ever marry, it will be to someone who accepts me as I am. And we will be happy because of it. I simply do not see any reason to compromise on that." She says, matching his actions like an old hand, to strike camp quickly. 

"Stubborn eh? Where do you get that from." He asks.

"A mystery for the ages." She smiles, placing a stack of rocks at the entrance to the tent.

Jokull summons his powers, and the rocks crackle and hiss with heat.

"


	11. The Minotaur

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meeting the Minotaur of Crete. A second ancient power. But this one not of preservation.

I wake in the morning to the sounds of Alexandria around me. I remember last night. I stood up in front of the Sphinx in her own chamber, and made demands. I'm not sure whether to be mortified, or impressed by my temerity. But apparently it was enough to get a blood bond from her to join me... If I can make good on my promise to provide a library. 

I look at the wound in my palm. Made with the left hand. My dominant hand. Because the Sphinx knows so much magic, so much that she has forgotten more of the laws of magic than I've learned. Not for her the false assumption of right as dominant. This is a personal blood pact, needing my personal commitment.

The wound is not particularly angry. It looks clean still. I hope that stays true. I sit up. The bed across from me is occupied by elegance and poise.

Mir Khan is awake, and meditating. She hasn't woken me with her movements.Either she was quiet, or I was a heavier sleeper than usual. Her eyes crack open as I sit up, her breath interrupted to draw speech.

"Come on, wash your face. The Inn keeper told me about a place nearby that serves decent coffee."

"Thank you. And thank you for letting me sleep."

"After the boon you won us last night, I figured you deserve it." She says, still an odd mixture of proud and amused.

"This only means something if I can convince Iceland to build a library. Or give their library to us." I say, not wanting to claim a victory I did not win..

"You convinced the Sphinx to be our librarian. Somehow I don't fear you will have trouble with the rest of it. Come on, let's go. I'm in a good mood and inclined to be generous."

We eat in the sunlight, happy to overheat in the shadow of the cold trip that lies ahead of us. The coffee is indeed good. We both eat a large breakfast of fruits and new cheese, fresh bread and butter. Olives and fish. It is such bounty. The gathered gifts of a healthy land and sea. It felt like I was drawing in life itself. An effect only boosted by the miracle that is the fresh roasted coffee bean, boiled gently to give up its essence.

"Let us find an old boat. Today we reach Crete." Mir Khan says, with an energy of purpose.

Most restored, we make our way down to the docks, and I almost happily shoulder my burden of books as I find the best footing I may along the streets. The docks are filled with small fishing boats and with larger vessels that make their way across the deeper waters to far off lands. There is a bustle of men hauling heavy loads. Of fish, and cats and cargo. 

Mir Khan does not take long to find what she wishes for, an old boat. Perhaps in need of repair. The owner old, and not as able as he once was to bring in fish, and maintain the wooden hull between trips.

Mir Khan haggles quickly to buy it. The man has difficulty hiding how much he'd prefer the money to the boat. But Mir Khan is generous. She has no reason to wish poverty upon an old man. 

With a few pieces of paper, and a handful of minutes, we convince the boat not to leak. With that and my compass affixed to the prow, we are ready to set out quickly. 

We sell the boat. The spells we placed on it, the new owner should have a few months before the leaks begin again.

The minotaur awaits.

"

We stay just beyond the Maze. The Minotaur is intelligent. But that doesn't mean it is sane, or friendly.

There's a reason why it was trapped.

But we barter with it for safe passage across the Mediterranean.

Exposed on the Mountaintop, it has seen every storm.

Trapped does not mean powerless.

The Maze is breaking. There is little we can do to repair it. The Dragon in the volcano is breaking, and everything with it.


	12. Devouring the Polar Bear

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Amandla dreams of Jokull. Jokull lures a lost Greenland polar bear into the Dream, where the Dragon devours it instantly.

Sometimes Shiftfall isn't quite what you'd expect. Sometimes it isn't the dream of the Dragon that rides on the rainbow ribbons through time and space.

Sometimes it's a very lost Polar Bear from Greenland. Ursus maritimus. The largest predator that has ever set a foot upon Iceland. Much like humans, they're willing and able to travel a long way in search of food. 

But the journey across the vast cold ocean is a fruitless one. Iceland is where these lone bears meet their end.

As it will be with this one.

Slowly, he backs away.

The Polar Bear is ravenous.

The Dragon appears over Jokull's head, expression identical.


	13. A flight from Scotland.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Appeasing the spirits of the ocean for safe passage. Warning: from this point in, this is draft quality. I apologise for the roughness and disjointedness. But this is my way of motivating myself to finish. Basically writing parts in and out of the narrative so that eventually it becomes a whole and flowing story with a satisfying conclusion.

The Viking Gods of the sea are angry. They have it in for anything that smells of foreign magic, ever since the dragon arrived.

It upset the balance and they're just not happy, even through they don't know the real underlying cause of all the problems.

Aisha is used to it. In fact, being a disruptive force wherever she goes is part of her power. No-one knows what to expect from her.

They have not gone to England, England is ... hostile. Nor to Denmark. There is annoyance with them for bringing bad news.


	14. Arriving in Iceland

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The flight across Iceland.

The foothills give way, and over the next ridge is a tent. 

Standing in front of it, with his hair flying around him, bare sword in hand, is Jokullvedder. Dark against the bright landscape.

With a rush of wind Aisha slows their flight as they near the ground.

Amandla takes two steps forward.

"It's you." Amandla says in her native Arabic.

Jokull seems non-plussed, as a few seconds silence he looks over at Aisha. "She speaks Chinese, right?"

Behind him, the tent flaps rustle, and a statuesque young lady emerges.

"She does. Among many others. It's good to see you Jokull, Gudrun. Your father let you join him finally." 

"Yes Mir Khan. Out of desperation. It's good to see you too." Gudrun replies, bowing politely.

"You're Gudrun." Amandla says, still struck dumb.

"And you're Amandla." Gudrun says, with a smile.


	15. We land, but to an ambush

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Amandla and Aisha finally reach Iceland.

They've barely caught their breath after landing. 

Suddenly there is a feeling like the sound of a stick cracking. Or of your ears popping at an oncoming storm.

“Something is wrong.”

“There's been a Shift nearby.”

Jokull draws his sword. So does Aisha. Gudrun stands alert with her bow, ready to draw. Amandla snaps her ring of protection, the one she constructed last month to thwart Huldufolk. It makes them visible. 

Suddenly the group are surrounded by sneaking humanoids, startled mid movement. Their clothing is grey like dirty snow. Except where their strange jewelry flashes bright colours.

They throw snowballs. Suddenly monsters rise up.

The Alfar run to a safer distance and leave their monsters to fight.

Aisha, Jokull and gudrun make short work of them. One Alfar runs for Amandla. Is shot down by Gudrun. 

She screams and clutches at her necklace, bleeding and crying. 

She speaks Icelandic. She speaks it just as in the books. She pleads something. She continues grasping at her jewelry, eventually managing to go invisible again, despite Amandla's spell.

"Jokull!" Aisha calls. 

He turns, sword slicing through what turns out to be just snow, animated by some arcane force. It smashes, crumbles. It's like lightning crackles across the field. Something has changed.

Then all is quiet except for their collective heavy breathing.

Gudrun and Aisha start trudging back to the pack near Jokull's feet. 

"Amandla."   
They jerk their head up out of their arms, but just stand there shaking. Jokull's face softens.

"I'm sorry. I forget how cold it gets out here." He says, striding up to them.  
Jokull encloses the tiny storyteller in a bear hug. He feels hot as if standing next to a fire. Amandla's arms stay slack at their sides.

“You'll get used to it.” He says, kindly.

Aisha comes over and looks at Amandla more closely.  
"I don't think it's only the cold. This is the first time Amandla has been in a fight like that."

"You brought a non-combat mage out here? It's bad enough she's barely out of childhood, but you haven't taught her to fight?" Jokull sounds shocked, angry. 

Mir Khan sounds authoritative as she says. "Amandla is not here for their fighting ability, they're here for their mind. I have never met a story teller as powerful. They are crucial to the solution I've found. That is why they're here. " 

"Then we'd better get somewhere safe.” Jokull says.

He looks around, calculating. "The Dream is close. Drag the pack. I'll carry her. We can make it."

"Gudrun." He says.

"Yes?" Her focus comes inward to the group.

"Scout for elves. We're heading North West, towards the Dream."

"Yes Pabbi." She says, and starts trudging through the snow in the right direction.


	16. The beauty of the Dream

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Travel through the Dream

"No... No No.. " I say as Jokull carries me towards the barrier.

"We'll be safe soon." He says, as he carries me closer.

"I can't.." I say, remembering the Dragon. The Dragon does not like me. I cannot survive its realm.

I see the others struggling close behind us.

It's like getting into a warm bath. The veil washes over me as smooth as silk and then... peace.

"The Dragon." I gasp, as Jokull puts me down.

"Is my friend." Jokull says. "You're safe here with me." 

I look into his eyes, and I calm down. I can almost see the power he has in this place.


	17. Returning to town

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a fight and a trek through the Dream of the Dragon, Jokull bring them out near the safety of the township, and Jokull goes home.

Jokull, Gudrun, Aisha and Amandla appear from nowhere. Standing on a somewhat bare hill, just outside of where the town's church-bells can be heard. 

They walk up on the town. It's small, and close together. Intimate. Huddled for warmth in the cold landscape.

“Jokull!” A man calls. He's of an age with Jokull, carrying a pole and a satchel.

“Fafnir. Your sheep are looking fat.” Jokull replies.

“Thank you. I'll see you at dinner tonight eh? I hope to meet this lovely lady then. Tell Helga I love her.”

“Of course.” Jokull replies.

Amandla mutters under her breath. “I'm not a lady.”

Fafnir calls out “Lady Khan, greetings.”

“What do you mean?” Gudrun asks Amandla quietly.

Aisha greets Fafnir with a restrained, elegant gesture.

“I'm neither man nor woman.” Whispers Amandla.

“Is that a religious thing?”

“It's... personal.” 

“Oh... perhaps you're like Joergi.”

“Who is that?” Amandla asks with curiousity.

“He confessed to me that since I acted like a man, and he acted like a woman, perhaps we would be happy as husband and wife.”

“That's... the start of the idea, I guess. I'll explain more later.” Amandla looks at Gudrun curiously.

The trudge through the streets. Volcanic rock paving them against mud. 

Jokull looks at Amandla and breathes deeply. He obviously doesn't want her in his house.

“I'll take Amandla to the Storytellers.” Gudrun says. “Tell Auntie I love her.”

“You're not coming in?” Jokull asks. Gudrun shakes her head, looking mischievous.

“So she didn't want you to join me out there either.”

“She wanted me there.” Gudrun explains. “I didn't take her amulet.”

Jokull looks like he has words he'd like to say about this himself. 

“Because I wore my own. I'm good at making them. I've used my own for years while hunting.” 

Jokull still looks grumpy as he shakes his head, sighs and turns to open the door.

Two small children sit playing on the floor inside the front room. They both stop playing and jump into his arms.

“Afidi!” They both yell, grinning.

“Inge, Helgi. Look at you, you're growing like weeds. Let me take off my cloak. It's window weather.” He takes it off, setting it awkwardly on a hook by the door as the kids continue to climb him and tell him stories. 

A woman Jokull's age pokes her head in the doorway. It's Helga, his twin sister. “Jokull.” She says warmly once he looks up from his pile of children.

Jokull tries to balance the two kids, one on each hip. “Your niece sends her love. She is up at the Great House with Aisha and Amandla. She'll be back later.”

“C'mon my little loves, let Afidi be for a moment. Go in the kitchen. There are honey buns.”

The children run off yelling happily about the honey buns.

“Did you encounter anything?” Helga asks, seriously.

“The shift was so strong I sacrificed the five white horses as soon as I could. There were things on the plain that I had only seen in the Dream, a whole new stream had appeared amongst the moss. There are strange things in the snowfall too. Hungry. They eat Shift-fall. And as soon as Aisha brought her protege back, we encountered Alfar. A large number, including stone trolls. Gudrun accounted for herself well.” 

“Did her amulet work as well as she claimed it would?” Helga asks.

“I have reason to think so.” Jokull says honestly.

“Then I forgive her recklessness. Just.” Helga says, a note of pride in her voice.

They hug one another. Foreheads and noses pressing together. Then Helga pulls her head back a little to get a good look at him. 

“Good thing I drew a bath.” She says, looking at his greasy hair and dirty boots. “Let me take your armour off.”

“Did you heat it?” He asks, as she loosens straps and buckles.

“Do I need to?” She asks.

Jokull pulls a face, and pulls off a boot.

“I stand by sending Gudrun out there after you.” Helga continues. “Even with her own amulet.”

Jokull takes a breathe. “I know. I understand.”

“Good. I'm not asking you to like it.” Helga says.

Jokull nods, and moves toward the bathroom. “Thank you for the bath.”

“I have new beer for you when you're finished.” Helga says warmly.

Jokull lets out a peaceful breath. “I love coming home.”

Once alone in the bathroom, Jokull takes off the rest of his clothes. 

So many scars criss cross his body. Earned over a long life spent in dangerous lands, facing dangerous foes. His feet and hands are calloused from hard walking and hard work. His muscles strong and lean. 

He puts one foot into the cold water, and it warms. A second foot in, and soon it begins to steam. He gets into the bath fully. 

His eyes close as soon as he settles in. The back of his eyelids suddenly see Alfar. Desperate and human looking faces contorted in fear. Always fear. Even as their minion stole his son.

His eyes snap open again. He watches the tendrils of steam for a quiet moment. Then suddenly he begins the process of scrubbing himself clean.

...

Some time later Jokul dries himself off. 

The door opens a crack. A little face peeks through.   
“Afidi. Can I brush your hair?” It's Inge. Her pet name for him is a mash-up of Uncle and Grandpa. All of his sister's children and grandchildren called him that. 

“Of course Inge, I've missed your brushing. Just let me drain the bath, sweetie, the water is fit for no-one.”

“Let Helgi do it. He's in trouble for throwing rocks at the sheep.”

“Is he now?” Jokull says warmly. “So I should come straight out?”

She nods enthusiastically, and puts her arms out to be picked up. He does, smiling at her contentedly.

“How about you? Have you been good?” Jokull says, carrying her to the kitchen.

“Yes Afidi.” She says, playing with his necklace.

“No stealing cakes before dinner?”

She shakes her head.

Coming into the warm kitchen, Jokull sets Inge down, and hugs Helga. His twin is shorter than him by almost a head. But she also has warm brown eyes, and dark but greying hair. They are obviously close.

He sits on the floor, on his own folded coat. Inge sits on a kitchen chair behind him and starts running her brush through his hair. Helga hands him a mug of beer. Helgi sits on his lap and starts winding pieces of string around his fingers to make a game.

“So, what's she like?” Helga asks.

“Mir Khan chose her for her scholarship.”

“You aren't impressed?”

“She's very young.” 

“So were you when you started this.”

“It's different. I was...”

“Only son of the dragon.” She finishes for him. “Did you test her blood to check it wasn't as special as yours? No?” She teases.

“She froze.. when things...” He looks at the little ears that are listening. “got hot.”

“The fae?” Helga asks, circumspectly.

Jokull nods, and Inge chides him for moving his head.

“Do you think it was her they were after?” Helga asks.  
Jokull blinks like he hadn't considered that possibility. “Not sure.”

“I dream walked as far back here as I could. To make sure we wouldn't see them again.”

“That has its own dangers.” Helga chides.

“I know. But Mir Khan left us to go get more support. And this mage...” With both a hand and his head literally tied up, it's hard for him to gesture sufficiently to show his dislike of the situation.

“Then Aisha really does plan to tell the Story this year. If she's leaving Amandla here.”

“Yes, she does.” Jokull does not sound in the least happy with this.

Helga thinks for a while. “How much more beer do you need?”

“With this young thing to tell it? A lot.” Jokull says.

“You don't even know her yet. You don't like anyone you've just met.” Helga says teasingly.

It's hard to look dignified and indignant, when two small children have decorated you with dry grass toy horses and somewhat lopsided braids. 

“Your daughter seems to like her.” Helga says.

“Yes, she does.” Says Jokull grumpily.

“Gudrun is who she is, Jokull.” Helga says.

Jokull takes a deep breath, and then his face smooths in acceptance, and love.  
“I'm proud of her.”

They move on to talk with the children about their day, and their recent adventures.

As peaceful and joyful as any family who loves one another.


	18. The Great Hall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The group meets.

A Long house. Based on the Viking halls of old. 

This is the residence of the Story Teller. The Hall is filled with small children and the Elderly. It's warmed by a massive fire in a long pit down the centre of the room, and a pleasant song is playing. The Storyteller herself has a small audience, and she makes shapes in the fire to illustrate it. I am surprised that there is such open witchcraft here in such a Christian town. But no-one bats an eyelid. I take this as a good sign.

Gudrun takes me and Mir Khan inwards to meet The Story Teller. It's obvious she has Greenlander blood. She has the dark piercing eyes, and the shorter build. 

She finishes her story and turns a little to face me full on. I feel very seen. 

"You must be Amandla." She says in clear slow Icelandic, courteous to my and Mir Khan's newness with the language. She shoos the children away.

"Thank you madam Story Teller. It is good to meet you." I say, hopefully not mispronouncing anything too badly.

She smiles at me. 

"Mir Khan. I hope the journey was not too difficult."

"No Madame Storyteller. Amandla is a good travel companion."

"Gudrun. Did it go as you hoped?" 

"Yes."

"You are a bronco, my love. Keep at it."

"Thank you, Story Teller."

"Tell the Drekavorder to come once he's able. And take Mir Khan to get settled in and have a rest before our discussions."

"Should I go wash too?" I ask.

She shakes her head in amusement. "You're young, you recover quickly. And you have too many questions to sit still. No, we will have tea, and you will hear things from me."

Gudrun and Mir Khan slip out of the Hall.

"You like her." The Story Teller says.

"Is it that obvious?" I ask, horrified.

"You're young." She says again.

"Is it obvious to her?" I ask.

"She's too busy trying to hide her own feelings to notice."

"You think she likes me?" I say haltingly, not having considered that possibility.

"Yes. But what Gudrun thinks of you isn't why we are here." The Storyteller says.

"No. No it isn't. I'm sorry. Storyteller, please. I would like to know the story of the Dragon and the Volcano."

She pokes the fire and smiles at me. The children gather again to hear it with me.


	19. Once upon a time, in a land far far away.

Volcano and Dragon

Once upon a time, in a land far away, there lived a dragon. He was born from the stone of the Jade Dragon Snow Mountain, and lived a long life, traveling the length of the river many, many times. The tale of his adventures is as long as the river, and as varied as the river too. The river has many names, for rivers do not care for borders in the same way that rivers do not care for river beds, and wander where they will, but in this story it will be named the Yangtze.

Many years ago, the dragon fell in love with a peach tree that lived in the crook of a bend in the river. Every year he returned to this bend in the river to listen to its song and enjoy her blossoms. One year when he returned, the people who lived there had dammed the river and chopped down the peach tree. The dragon went mad with grief and rage, and sent a flood that broke the dam, burst the rivers banks and drowned all the people who lived downstream. Then the dragon traveled the river in search solace, but wherever he went, the local people had chopped down the trees on the banks of the river, put in dams and weirs, stealing the beauty and balance. Nowhere could the dragon find peace. And so the flooding traveled with the dragon, higher and higher, and further across the land until it threatened the lives of everyone who lived along its banks. The Emperor of China commanded the four finest sorcerers in the land to slay the dragon and stop the flooding. But of course, there is no way to slay the dragon without slaying the river. So instead they fashioned two statues that would imprison the dragon. One they set in the river, at the place of the dragon's birth. The other they took far away. The Dragon is a creature of water and wind, that flowed to the South and West. So they traveled East and North, far along the great Silk Road, across mountains and deserts until they found a mountain of Ice and Fire. But although this is what they sought, it did not had a power strong enough to hold the dragon. And so they traveled further still, to the legendary island of Ice and Fire, formed by the rifting of two great land plates. Into the Bay of Smoke. In that land they found a volcano that had a female spirit, one that would be a match to the male dragon. And so it was that both volcano and dragon met, and settled into a deep sleep together. Their task accomplished, three of the great sorcerers returned to China, to great reward, and one stayed behind to look after the statue, and ensure no harm would come to it. 

This seems like the perfect solution to the troubles of the people in Iceland, and in China. But, you must remember that there are always dangers when humans meddle with the elemental forces of nature. 


	20. Dinner and a show

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A frog dog poodle pickle yahoo. Yeah... we're deep in draft territory.

Jokull's plate is piled with his favourites. Not too high, because peaches and cream is to follow.

Inge sits on his lap and eats morsels he cuts for her. 

After dinner, there is music. Gudrun and himself play together.

After music, stories. His stories are those of the Dream of the Dragon. And after stories, sleep.

Jokull lies in bed, familiar smells around him, wrapped in a blanket made for him. 

Cosy and safe as anyone could ever be. He can only try to shut down the thought that while he's so safe, the dragon is abroad. Creating havoc. That the auroras beat down, and it's just the relatively flimsy roof that separates him from being swept away into oblivion.

His sister cracks the door open. “Go to sleep.” She says.

They look at one another a moment, across the room. “See you in the morning.” He replies.

Somehow, that was the missing piece. He closes his eyes and goes to sleep. As always, he dreams of dragons. And of lost faces from the past. But tonight, they are all happy memories. His weary bones rest well, for the first time in too long.


	21. Our first patrol

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A small journey to the next town to reinforce defenses.
> 
> We manage to see Giant deer.

In the little valley lies a swirling bed of mist. Too much mist to be natural. 

The mist parts and our steps a trio of giant deer. I've seen them from 

"Is this Shiftfall?" I ask softly. I wasn't aware of anything like this from Mir Khan's reports.

"No. I've never seen a deer this big in the Dream. The closest I've seen to this is a Qilin." 

"The Zodiac is wrong to see a Qilin." Gudrun says softly.

"I know." Jokull says.

"I've only seen these dead." Gudrun says.

"You've seen these?" Jokull asks?

"I told you I saw giant deer carcasses."

"Deer are all big, I thought you just meant deer."

"This is bigger than an elk." I say.

The deer continue to stomp uneasily in the snow. They appear confused.

Amandla sees Jokull's effect on people. He's seen as a Demigod by those who don't know him.

His stony demeanor and tendency to steam whenever he's snowed on definitely don't dispel his aura of power.

Just before

"Try not to look so... small. And lame." Jokull says.

"What?"

"Part of our job is to give hope. Who is going to see our savior in you, looking like that?"

"My power is not like that. My power is in words."

"Perhaps in Damascus. But your words aren't known here."

"I have something that might help."

I paint my spell onto my ears, my mouth and chin. 

"Good." He says, looking over me critically.


	22. Falling for you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Amandla and Gudrun are adorable together.

Cute sweets with Gudrun and Amandla.

“I'm going to stay out here a minute.”

“Aren't you hungry?”

“Well, yes.”

“Is this about Dad?”

“He doesn't like me.”

“He's like that with everyone new.”

“No seriously, this is what he's like.”

I make a little chibi flip book of Jokull grumpily eating, scratching himself and farting, then asking 'what are you staring at'.

It makes Gudrun smile. “He's not that bad. Come on.”

And then when they open the tent, Jokull does exactly the sequence Amandla just drew.  
Gudrun laughs out loud. 

Amandla's face goes blank, then she spins around so Jokull can't see her laugh. 

“I'll be in to eat in a minute, start without me.” 

“What?” Jokull asks his daughter.

"It's ok Pabbi. Amandla just knows you better than you might think. What do you have for us?"


	23. News of devastation.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There are many new monsters abroad. There is such destruction.

"My powers don't work within Church bells. Difference spheres of influence."

"Ah." I say. I feel a little silly for forgetting.

"


	24. Aisha Khan in her home land

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meets the Emperor. Sick of his bullshit. Holds her temper. Gets barely enough support. But still... enough.

The palace is not small.


	25. Scenes of devastation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scenes of devastation. Somehow, despite everything, the balance is getting worse.

All sorts of strange animals, many dead. A whole swathe of the Dream melting right through to Iceland.

Like a great gouge has been taken from the land.

Icelanders are used to an unstable earth, but this is beyond.


	26. What can wreak this havoc?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They go to defeat the Monster of Reykyavik. Jokull thinks that it is a creation of the Huldufolk, because something like this killed his son. Amandla discovers it is a wendigo, a monster of the Western Plate. Helga saves Jokull from the Wendigo. Because of course that's her type of power. Duh. 
> 
> Gudrun deals the killing blow(?)

The more power Aisha expends getting around, the less she will have to tell the Story.

She is a great resource. But finite.

"There's trouble in Reykyavik."

"We think the dragon has been devouring livestock. There's a problem. It has moved on to people now. Leaving nothing alive in its wake"

"That's not the Dragon."

"That's not the volcano."

"Tell me everything. I think it's an outside power." I face Jokull. "Like the Deer."

"

Helga comes with us. They need to update the governance on our progress in any case, try to negotiate more resources to deal with the problem. The Wendigo is just a good impetus to go sooner rather than later.


	27. Spoilers, it was colonialism all along.

The charm is useless, because the Wendigo was essentially invited in by the very power structure that holds sway in the society: an outsider siphoning off goods and services without regard for the effect on the local populace and landscape. So even though the internal Christian power structure cares for one another, the external influence is the crack in the armor.

This Wendigo was created from the Danish envoy to the King. 

Oh dear, they've killed the highest ranking representative of the King.

This takes some explaining.

But Amandla does it. Because she has the power of many cultures behind her. The strength of the tribes of both her mother and father. 

Which is why people listen. 

Amandla says "No! No, this makes perfect sense. The Wendigo is about greed, selfishness. Of course it infected Lord Danish Envoy. His position was to extract goods and resources from the land. There was no 'in accordance to the rules of the land'. His was a foreign influence of destabilisation. Power should always be used within the complex matrix that creates it. His use of power broke that balance." 

"This is how he could come within Church bells. He's been invited in."

"Madame Volcano! She sits on the Western and Eastern plates."

"I never understood why the link was getting so much worse so quickly, when Jokull was so concerned with balance, so careful."

"It's because of what the Western plate is linked to. Just as the Eastern plate travels all the way from China, and that links the conduit so perfectly. On the Western plate stands a vast colonial empire."

"Not just one. Many. The British, the Spanish, the Dutch, the Portugese and the French."

"That is what is creating Wendigos so quickly." 

"That means we cannot resolve this without the powers of the Western plate. And currently, they are shattered, and replaced with Wendigos."

"How do we defeat this? How do we unravel colonialism in order to save the volcano?"


	28. Getting Captured by the Huldufolk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On purpose. Chill out Jokull. It'll be fine.

Amandla is such a braveass. Like seriously.

"They killed my son."

"I don't care. I have to hear their story. I finally understand why Iceland is theirs more than it is Gudrun's or yours."

"I think I know who they are. They are people like me. The ones who didn't fit within the Church. The homosexual. The left handed. The ones whose gender doesn't fit their body. Witches. I'm all of those things."

"The Church is powerful. It gives safety from the Wendigos."

"But it has flaws. And one of those flaws is who it excludes."

"We must smash it's power as much as we must smash all power. But I need to do it like a jeweler. Not a strip miner. And to do that I need to go with them to the Hulduheim. And you can let me go, or come with me. But I'm not staying here."

"To stay is to give up. And I'm not doing that."

"I will hear the Story of the Huldufolk. I know why your pain makes it hard for you. But you either grow beyond that, or doom Gudrun with you."

"It's not that simple."

"No it is that simple. But that doesn't make it easy."

"Okay." Jokull says.

I take off my charm, giving it to Aisha (is she there?).

Gudrun takes off her Cross, and her Charm. Gives them both to her father. All she keeps is her Wendigo Ward.

"No... " Jokull whispers.

"I'm too much like you to stay. We care for those we love." Gudrun says to him quietly.

"I'll keep us both safe."

Jokull cries.

The Huldufolk whisk us away.


	29. Wow it's beautiful over here.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is where the frikken giant deer have been coming from. Also, glass houses. So many glass houses.

It's alarmingly similar. Nothing like entering the dream of the dragon.

There is more snow around.

I beat the Sphinx!

I dance around in the snow.


	30. Song City of Hulduheim

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Glass towers.

No predators. 

It's just the weather that needs to be protected against.

The Library, the parliament and the concert hall are the three most important buildings of the city, arrayed around a circular park, the centre of which is a Rowan tree.

There is a hospital behind the library. A school behind the concert hall. 

What's that place behind the Parliament?

"That is a mortuary and a Cemetary." 

"Every life and every death of a citizen must be in the mind of our law makers. It is only appropriate." 

"You have the most beautiful city I have ever seen." I say. 

"Thank you. We put great thought into the design."

Many things I recognise from Norse mythology. But many more things that are obviously symbols are new to me.

No sheep, only goats.


	31. Now we need to negotiate.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> fog fog fog volcano.

Gudrun and I clutch hard to one another as we pass through the veil. We land just a few dozen meters from Jokull. I'm impressed by the Huldufolk's precision and control. A swirl of snow falls from around us, into soft stillness. The stone beside us hums for a moment like a struck bell.

Gudrun lets me go and goes to her father. He hugs her even tighter than I just did, his eyes closed against the overwhelming feeling of relief. I hang back, giving them a private moment. They speak entirely in Icelandic.

"They were good to us. We were safe the entire time."

"It's beautiful there Pabbi. I wish you could see." 

"I don't want to see it." He says. "Yes you do. Even when it hurts, you always prefer truth."

He huffs out a little laugh at that.

"Amandla. How was it?"

"My suspicions were right. The Huldufolk are the missing piece of the puzzle."

"I don't understand. It's impossible for them to touch the Dream of the Dragon."

"Of course not. Have you ever walked the Dream of the Volcano?"

"There's a Dream of the Volcano?" 

"I always believed so. It turns out that The Dream of the Volcano is Hulduheim. " 

"It's where the deer come from." Gudrun says.

"They have always had visited from the old ones. Great wolves and Deer." I say.

"I don't understand how that happened." Jokull says.

"The Huldufolk were forced into that realm by Christianity."

"Christianity?"

"Everyone unclean in the sight of God. Left handers, homosexuals, witches. Hulduheim became their shelter."

"Christianity is based on unity and charity. It works against the Windigo." Jokull looks deeply confused.

"But it's also based on exclusion and control. More, the Catholic Church has been corrupted. I have seen how rich they are in the Vatican. I believe that's how the Lord from Denmark became corrupted. He wasn't lying about being Christian. It was the Blessing that was flawed." Mir Khan says.

"Is it really so bad there? What about Michael?"

"We hold hope until we can't any more."

"

"For that, We have to meet with the Huldufolk on the Volcano."


	32. Synopsis

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ok, so I might never finish this. It's a bad habit of mine. But the story is whole and beautiful and vibrant in my mind. So here's a good chunk of it summed up. 
> 
> If you like the sound of it, please tell me which scene you want to see. I'll write it. I want to share something you want to read. I want you to know of the Story.
> 
> But until then, I'll probably be off writing other things. Because who wants to tell a story to the empty air?

We travel over land, to Beirut, then skirting the Mediterranean southwards, until we come to Alexandria. The famous Alexandria of Egypt, as opposed to the other cities in other lands that Alexander the great conquered. The land where the library and the Mousion once stood. There lie the ruins of a great scholarship, which Aisha Khan wishes to stir into action once more. That night, and ever night of the journey afterwards, I dream of Jokull, and of his daughter Gudrun. First a sacrifice of white horses, then a fight for Gudrun to join him in the Dream, where he falls into a stream and steams himself dry, then a dream of him luring a starving Polar Bear through the veil of reality so that the Dragon eats it. Finally I dream of a very powerful Aurora, where the crossing from the Dream of the Dragon into Island spreads within its light, leaving traces of alien landscapes mixed into the snows of Island. Traces that will need to be banished once again by Jokull Aisha and myself. And from within the ragged edges of the holes in reality, come the Huldufolk to attack Jokull and Gudrun, trying to tear them from this reality into their own. I am already falling in love with Gudrun at this point, and I call out in fright for her. That is when the Huldufolk see me. That is the most affecting. As through fear itself looked into my soul.

Then across the waters to Crete.

In the mountains of Crete, we find the minotaur. Walking, still confined, in the dust where once the Labyrinth stood. For that is how the magic that bound it works. For it is a spirit. Which can be slain from the world only as spirits are slain. It's body is as long gone as its walls. But it is bound here still.

From there we fly to many centres of learning and of myth, across Europe. Further and further East and North. Until we come to Denmark-Norway. There we consult with one final person, and one final government, before tackling the great deep cold ocean crossing, without landmark, guided only by Mir Khan's powers.

It is cold, and long, frightening and beset by malevolent sea spirits. Perhaps they collude with the Huldufolk.

But we land. Not only near the mountain, but near Jokull himself. Guided by a signature only Aisha knows how to follow. 

We land, and I see Jokull for the first time in the flesh. I'm struck dumb by how accurate my Dream is. How I already know this man, though he does not know me. It's really very awkward. Especially since I'm quite sapped by the journey. I am cold, but Jokull is steaming hot. His mere hand shake warms me up and revives both Mir Khan and myself. Then I get to meet Gudrun. She seems to like me. Jokull does not like that, nor does he like me.

Before we can truly settle in, we are attacked by Huldufolk. 

We defeat their first wave of assault, and run. Jokull tears a hole in reality so that we can walk through it into the Dream of the Dragon.

I'm traumatised by the attack, but Jokull saves me, carrying me bodily into the Dream, where he can keep us safe.

From there we travel. Through a marshy stream filled with giants turtles, across land thick with lush vegetation. We pop out into Island on the slopes of a hill, just outside the sound of a town's church bells. Half ancient earthern/peat and stone houses. With an old Norse style great hall for a Church. 

The Town is Jokull and Gudrun's home. Herders and farmers making use of the rich volcanic soil. A frontier town.

Aisha and I go to meet the Storykeeper. Gudrun takes us there. Jokull goes to his sister's home. Gudrun's mothers house. There he has a bath. His scars are many and deep. He has a very equal relationship with his sister. He doesn't take command of her, like he did of us out on the plains and in the Dream.

She can see right through him, and won't take a single ounce of bullshit. They talk of me, of Gudrun and of Aisha. They talk of the Story. Gudrun's young grandchildren run at her feet, not interrupting her train of thought, but making an utter fool of Jokull as they braid his hair and play with him and hug him. It's hard to be a big gruff bear of a man when being crawled over by puppies, after all.

We eat together. Jokull's sister likes me. We talk about what to do from here... that's the trouble. Aisha needs to go collect more people for the story. Unless the statue in China is brought, and the correct magics done upon it, then this will all be for nothing. Aisha must find the correct wizards to help, and the blessings of the Emperor. 

Which means it would be Jokull, Gudrun and I sealing the scattered pieces of dream back into their own reality without her. Technically, Jokull's sister could do it together with him, but she needs to go to the althing with the storykeeper, to present our case. Also, Jokull does NOT want to risk her life. He's lost too many people before now. It's not just his son to the Huldufolk. He lost his wife in childbirth with a third child. 

So.. Jokull does not like any of that. He feels like he's being sidelined in order to be my babysitter. 

But that's what happens.

We go, and we heal some Dream, and we guard against some Aurora slippage. Both of which are incredibly beautiful and difficult to accomplish. All the while the Huldufolk harry us. 

Also... weird things are happening.. I mean, things that Jokull hasn't seen before. We encounter Megaloceros. And wolves. And this isn't in the Dream. This is in Island.

I figure something out. The Huldufolk just want to talk with me. I let them carry me back into the Hidden Realm. 

Jokull does not like this. He blames the Huldufolk for his son's death. He hates them. But I go anyway. Turns out the hidden Realm lies within the Dream of The Volcano. Just like the deer.

Turns out the Huldufolk are just trying to heal the Dream and the Volcano, just like we are. It's just that their strategy is to get the Dragon to piss off back to China, by killing Jokull and destroying the statue.

Apparently killing his son wasn't their fault. It was the fault of a Windigo, it smelt the power of the dragon. The Huldufolk were there because they were trying to stop the transfer of power before he could share his power with his son, thereby meaning they'd have to kill both before they could get rid of the dragon. Also, they knew about the Windigo. It didn't work out how they planned. :/ I mean, they don't like killing people, but the Dragon is messing EVERYTHING UP. Also, if a Windigo got control of the dragon.... woah nelly.

Fortunately. I have a better plan. One that won't kill thousands of people in China... and who knows how many between here and there. At least.. if it works out. 

If it works out, my story will be a wedding. Between myself and Gudrun. Why? I'll get there.

You see, the plan to keep the dragon in the volcano was only supposed to happen for a few years, just until they could move the villages. But it was so effective, they just kept sending more and more energy through it, straight to Island. 

There hasn't been a flood on the Yangtze in almost sixty years. But the dragon is stronger than ever, and the walls between realities are failing, in ways no-one predicted thanks to the windigo. We are breaking the Hidden Realm where the Huldufolk live, just as much as we're breaking Iceland. 

What no-one predicted when all this was set up is that the windigo would appear. But the Colonial takeover of North America is completely messing up the Western Plate. The volcano sits at the interface between the Eastern and Western Plates. This is how Island is created.

The Windigo is why they Huldufolk have begun attacking. Every time Jokull heals Iceland, it's by breaking the walls between Island and the Hidden Realm even more. Meaning any time now, the Windigo will break through.

Why is this Windigo such a trouble? Because it's an abomination created as a weapon by the Colonials. In order to break the power of the land, they kinda squished a bunch of winidigo together and just pointed it at everything good and wholesome on the entire continent.

But it got out of their control, and leaked through into Island. The Colonists didn't tell anyone. It's a Chernobyl and the Russian government situation.

Why are there humans in the hidden realm in the first place? It's about power and magic and outsiders. At one point through the history of Island, almost everyone was converted from the Norse pantheon to Christianity. When that happened, the people's connection to the land weakened.. except for those who were rejected by Christianity. 

What no-one had realised was that everyone used to faze in and out of the Dream of the Land during the Auroras... but it wasn't obvious until Christianity divided the people.

One day, there was just such a strong belief that when a strong aurora came along, it swept everyone from our reality, straight into the Dream of the Land. 

Divided one against the other by the new power structure, some were shoved out out reality. Which meant all of the witches, all the left handers, and all of the homosexuals. All those who were 'unclean in the sight of God'. Roughly ten percent of the population just faded away one night, never to return.

For a long time, the Huldufolk were trapped there, but after a generation, their children were able to break back through. By then, they'd figured out what happened. No-one wanted to live back here, even if they could. It's still difficult for them to stay on this side.

But they'll help us. On occasion. Despite it all, because they're humans.

The thing is. It's borders that are the problem. Limits that corral power to and away from certain individuals. That's how magic works. Its what forms the Dream, and the Dream of the Land. It's... everything. Male/female. Christian/Pagan. One country and another. Kings and peasants. 

I am a child of an outside land. Gudrun is the child of both China and Island. If I embody the Eastern land plate, and she embodies the West. She embodies both male and female, and I embody neither. She embodies the dragon, and I embody the volcano. But with effort, we can both embody the opposite. 

Ok.. It's actually a lot more complicated than that. I have to dismantle at least three structures of power and remake them in ways that will allow the Volcano and the Dragon to become one entity. I do this by telling a story. The Story. And then I get married. Because unity and love is the only way to defeat callousness and greed.

If I do it really well, the volcano gets a bunch of new hot-springs, the Hidden Realm become more accessible, but remains stable, and China simply has to deal with floods as usual again. If I do it less well, there's a volcanic eruption, and a wash-back of the dragon's power, probably causing instant flooding in China. If I do it really poorly, then the water of the dragon enters the fire of the volcano. Have you heard of Tambora, Pinatubo, Krakatoa? Combine them... So.. goodbye half of Island? And then release an angry dragon into the world, with sixty years of unfallen flood waters in tow, riden by the most powerful windigo the world has ever seen. 

But .. if I don't tell the story and do it SOON, that level of mayhem is going to start leaking out into random parts of our reality anyway. Because this was a quick fix with unintended consequences, thanks in large part to colonialism.

No pressure huh?

So I have to understand all the power structures I'm trying remake, so I can remake them in a way that lets the Dragon and the Volcano be the same thing, and not divided, and not separate but equal. One. United.

Because if I do it wrong, it'll just start leaking again.

But the Storykeeper has news. I don't have to fix it all at once. I just have to fix enough. And then, I have to listen. And people have to listen to me, so that together we remake things. Make them better. It means that I am dedicating my entire life to this. And the life of my children. But that's no different than what Jokull's family has done.

All we really have to do now, is give the power of the Huldufolk to me, and the power of the Dragon to Gudrun, and then marry us in sight of the other power structures. That's enough of a commitment. And then it just takes dedication, from me, from a lot of people.

We ask for the support of people. Many give it. Some do not. Gudrun feels betrayed by those who do not. But I'm a sorceror. I know what it looks like when someone tells you that the power you have is going to weaken, or at least change. It's fear. Just fear. Powerful fear. But we get enough support.

So we get married under an Aurora, in Island, surrounded by hundreds of those who hold the keys to power. We get married wading in the lake in the caldera of the Volcano, it's surface reflecting the light of the Aurora. It is beautiful. And it is powerful. 

And it works... ok. The volcano erupts, and we all have to flee into the Dream of the Land, and when we get back, everything's a bit of a mess... but the area around the Volcano has new hot-springs. And as long I Gudrun and I stay commited to this, we're going to be ok... we hope. 

We've banished the windigo from Island. But we haven't killed it.

Best news. I'm pregnant. It's Gudrun's and mine. What, you think two female bodied people can't have a child? Look, a Volcano just married a Dragon, don't get weird about things, that's kind of the whole point. Anyway, that child will be our hope for the future. 

And Jokull's a grandad! He's so happy :)


	33. Conversations about how to rewrite the Story

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's near time. More supporters have arrived.

They sit around the fire.

“It's the colonisers that are the biggest problem. The first peoples, they are absolutely behind us, they are coming.”

“It's the colonial lords that are breaking their lands that are the problem.” 

“And they see no reason to change. Their power structures suit them. They don't care about flooding in China. They don't care if Iceland ceases to exist.”

“The Vatican is too busy with their own struggles. But the people who challenge them aren't.”

“The Protestants. Michael convinced the Protestants? He is Catholic.”

“He was Catholic. That is the beautiful power of the Protestants. The will to change.”

“He cut himself from his family, for me?”

“For us. For all of us. He knows what we face.”

“There is better news about the Protestants. It's part of the power of the English colonisers. With them behind us, we have a chance to break the Wendigos.”

“Also, we have the Quakers.”

“There are so few, their power is so small.”

“No.. you don't understand. They are uniters. Their lines of power are like webs, and their pacificm is key. This is the best news. We need the Quakers. Violent surges cannot travel backwards and forwards across their weaves. It is so hard to tie these different power systems together. Theirs is not weakness, it is kindness. Kindness is their strength, and more than any other system, theirs is created by kindness. None of this works without kindness.”

“Between them and the Protestants, we have all we need for Iceland. Now it's just China. Mir Khan promises us China. Then all we need is the merest crack in the power of the Colonies of the Western Plate. It will allow the original powers to resurface. If only we support them. And there's no way the Quakers can fail to support them.”

Amandla "We have to be more radical than what you're saying."

“There's a border between male and female. Between the lands where these powers were born. Between the light and the dark, the ice, fire, water, air, earth and metal. Between the seasons even.”

“We must weaken those borders. In some cases remove them completely. We need to tell a more complex story of how the world works.”

“The borders are what give us power. They are what keep us from chaos. What you're saying is madness.”

“I'm not disagreeing, except that I am disagreeing. Those borders gave us power, But that power is also what's destroying us and everyone else. Those structure may have been useful in the past. But in the past, we weren't facing a volcano that was going to destroy half of Island in the blink of an eye, and a dragon that wants to drown every single person who lives along the Yangtze within a year, and perhaps the Mekong next year, if they're still angry. We don't know, because they are the elements of nature, and they are above our understanding.”

“We can't control it, and we can't run from it. We only have one land to live in. One land to sustain us and every other creature we share it with. If we don't face this, it will consume us.”

"And we will not beat this by taking half measures. I am asking for EveryThing from you. It is not fair, but it is Right. And I will face it head on, and I will drag you with me if I must."

Gudrun is breathing almost as hard as I am.


	34. And that's how we save the world

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> That's how a non-binary, bi-sexual, mixed heritage, female bodied, left-handed, very young, person of colour with a disability saves the world from the Wendigos that prey on the Dragon living in the Volcano.
> 
> We don't all live happily ever after. But on average, we live happier, longer and more peacefully than we would've otherwise. 
> 
> It was a grand adventure. And worth it.

Yes. I sneakily made my hero the archetype parodical embodiment of what all the angry misogynists say makes for an awful forced hero and an awful story.

Thing is. It had to be this person. No other way of telling this story would have made sense. Because rebuilding the way the world works from the ground up is crucial to changing power balances. And taking the world apart can only be done if you understand how it's put together. Which means it can only be done with intersectionality in mind. 

That's how we save the world, with listening, careful thought, rational action and empathy.

Anyone who tells you different is selling something. Which is important to note, because the moral of this story is don't trust rich people further than you can throw them. 

And you can trust people as far as you can understand them.

The End.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Making this into a Movie actually requires a two parter, doesn't it? First part is up to defeating the first Wendigo. Second part is the whole save the world thing.


	35. Reader, I married her.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gudrun marries Amandla in the Volcano's crater lake, underneath the Aurora. The ceremony is attended by thousands. There is song and dance and love. And then the Dragon melds with the Volcano, and that's cataclysmic, and also banishes all Wendigo from Iceland.

ok... so I have to write this so that It's the correct mix of beautiful and punk.

Because this is so punk.


	36. The Sphinx arrives.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We have a librarian in the house!!

Human nature.

Houses 

A beautiful building. Is the library. 

The head librarian is humble in meeting their mythic counterpart.


	37. This is my Nano?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I really want to finish this.

I'm making a public commitment to this work. I know it's cheating, but this work is going to be at least 50,000 words long. I'd love to have a half decent draft of it out here by the end of November.


	38. Avenues of power

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Considering a different approach.

The volcano is unhappy. 

There is one way to shift this energy through a better channel. 

It involves the Congress between man and woman. 

... Jokull is convinced that there much be another way. It’s not that he isn’t attracted, it’s that he doesn’t consider himself available.


	39. Neither and both

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Amandla explains her avenues of power.

I’m able to access both male and female powers. 

This is unusual. I don’t just invoke, I embody. This is different from how some sorcery works.


	40. Screen Rant Humour

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ok, so I just recently discovered that Ryan George is very talented comedian slash movie reviewer, and also very cute. So this is a tribute to him.

Ryan George reviews the movie Volcano and dragon.

Ryan George standing in front of a generic office green screen, wearing a suit and button down, and grinning and squinting so we don't notice how handsome he is. “So, you have a movie script for me?

Ryan George in glasses standing in front of a different green screen and wearing a blazer and t-shirt combo grins back at him and says: “Yes sir, I do.”

“So, what's it about?”

“It's about a person who travels to a volcano because a dragon is threatening to end the world.”

“Have you been having fever dreams?”

“Yes sir, I have. And Keanu Reeves is the Dragon's jailer.”

“Oh, Keanu Reeves is so hot right now.”

“So we're playing up the fact that Keanu is of mixed ancentry.”

“Isn't that racist?”

“I don't know.”

“Ok, so who else is in it? 

“Michelle Yeoh, Sandra Bullock and Bjork.”

“A former action star, a rom com queen and a surreal music artist. This is from the fever dreams again isn't it?”

“And the main character is in love with Cara Delevinge.”

“Oh.. she has good eyebrows.”

“Yes Sir, she does.”

“So does it have a plot or a genre or something?”

“Mainly it's a historical fantasy where they're doing magic and fighting monsters.”

“Wow wow wow wow.”

“But the other half is political drama as they try to convince people to join the fight.” 

“Oooh, very boring.”

“Well I thought it was required in order to set the stakes properly. Also it's half set in Iceland and half set in a mythical fantasy historical China.”

“Oh, that sounds very expensive and difficult to film.”

“Actually it's super easy, barely an inconvenience.”

“How so?”

“We just use a lot of bargain basement visual effects and call it a stylistic choice.”

“Stylistic choices are tight.”

“And we see the Dragon eat a polar bear in a single bite.”

“Oh my god.”

“The people who we think are the bad guys at the start of the movie turn out to want the exact same things as the heroes.” 

“Cliche misunderstandings of who the bad guys are, are tight.”

“So they end up travelling to a different hidden layer of reality populated by witches and gay people.”

“That sounds very weird.”

“Careful sir, it's based on the actual myths of Iceland. You don't want to sound racist.”

“Oh, then keep that part in.”

“But once we talk with the secret gay people we discover that it's actually colonialism that's ending the world, and America are the real bad guys, so in order to stop the dragon from getting out and exploding the volcano before going on a rampage the heroes have to smash the power of the catholic church.”

“Oh this is going to be very difficult to sell.”

“Well sir, I'm hoping that the audience is so distracted by the CGI dragon that they don't notice the core message of the film.”

“You want your core message to be obscure and difficult to understand?”

“Oh yes... razzle dazzle is what sells, the whole environmental crisis narrative is really quite minimal.”

“Then why have it at all?”

“Because we want to target perceptive hippy tree hugger atheists who have action movie loving boyfriends with this movie.”

“That is a very specific demographic.”

“Yes sir it is.”

“Well I'm going to have to say no on this one.”

“But sir, Keanu Reeves has already signed on, and he's asked us very politely to fund it.”

“Oh well I can't go against a fellow Canadian asking politely can I? Tell him it's as good as made.”

outro music


	41. Pieces of spring

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> little bits of Icelandic Spring and Summer are appearing in the snow. This is a problem.

the little ibts of spring and summer die before they can truly live.

**Author's Note:**

> Why this story? I had a dream. I flew across the world using the power of magics I stole from monsters, and as I landed at my destination Keanu Reeves stood in the snow awaiting me. Shirtless, his hair and coat blown wide and wild in the wind, and in his hand he held an ancient Chinese folded steel sword. He led me and my companion through the snow, and through a veil of reality, into a world of monsters, to find an item of power. Over creeks filled with giant turtles, and past the bones of dinosaurs, we fought and hid and quested onward through such beauty and danger. I wanted to know how this story ended, and most of all, how it begun. Now we're finding out.
> 
> PS: Dear Keanu Reeves, I have such a character for you. His name means Glacier-wall Dragon Keeper. And his journey has loss and love, suffering and hope. Strength and vulnerability. Struggle, and more importantly, peace.


End file.
